


Spinoff

by yeaka



Series: Sucked In [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Ficlet, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:27:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29418636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Cor doesn’t want to deal with delinquents.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum/Cor Leonis/Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Series: Sucked In [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2141448
Comments: 11
Kudos: 76





	Spinoff

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s one thing for one new recruit to miss a mandatory meeting—not an _acceptable_ thing, but not unheard of. Being in the Crownsguard isn’t just a fancy title and a custom uniform; it’s an honour and an important duty, something to be taken seriously. When not one, not two, but _three_ relatively new members are no-shows, Cor’s face hardens into an icy stare that would make even Clarus proud. 

He doesn’t have time to hunt them down. He’s not a babysitter, and his job’s not a cushy desk position with an assistant on hand. He has no choice but to conduct the meeting without them and make it _very_ clear to the rest that such behaviour will not be tolerated—even from friends of the prince.

It’s not lost on Cor that all three of the missing members are probably _more_ than friends with their crown prince. He doesn’t confront Prince Noctis about it. He’s perfectly aware of Noctis’ new address in the city, being the one to organize the security detail ever-present there, but he’s not accustomed to confronting Noctis with problems. That’s somebody else’s job. Besides, he has no evidence that Noctis is even involved. Every missing guard is responsible for their own behaviour. They’re all grown men, quite capable of handling themselves. They’ll be able to handle the consequences. But he doesn’t have time to dole them out himself, so he heads to Clarus’ office, because Clarus might have a strategy for finding and dealing with the miscreants.

Granted, Cor probably won’t mention the actual names of those miscreants, given that one is Clarus’ own son. It’s surprising, because Gladiolus has been working for the Citadel since he was a teenager, and he’s always been reliable. Ignis even more so. Even when the occasional heat or incredibly cluttered schedule clashes with a Crownsguard posting, Ignis always alerts Cor to the conflict well in advance. And Prompto Argentum is a fairly new addition, but he’s the most eager young man Cor’s ever met, and no one ever put more into the entrance exam than Prompto did. 

Yet all three are absent. Cor half expects to run into them in the halls of the Citadel, belated hurrying to the training yard with ready excuses, but the gleaming corridors are as neat and orderly as usual. Cor’s two turns away from Clarus’ office when his steps falter. 

His head turns to the side, automatically drawn to the little office allotted to Ignis, though he’s perpetually torn in so many different directions that he’s rarely found inside. A sweet smell is wafting under the doorway, and when they put Cor’s alpha senses on high alert, he thinks he can hear a muffled cry—perhaps the strained sound of Ignis’ voice, whimpering in distress.

The walls of the Citadel are incredibly thick. Ignis would have to be absolutely _screaming_ at the top of his lungs for Cor to hear it. The pheromones cloistering around him are screaming in their own way. He can sense that mounting warmth prickling along his skin, making him start to sweat under his clothes. His mind seizes up, consumed with the overwhelming tug of _ripe omega._

Cor would like to think himself evolved beyond pure animal instincts. But he’s also a soldier, an intensely physical being, and his body’s moving before he can stop it. He reaches for Ignis’ door and twists the handle, letting himself inside without the courtesy of a knock.

Ignis isn’t quite screaming. It sounds like he’s already blown out his voice, and it’s left him hoarse and raw. He’s only mewling helplessly, while his prince’s moans mingle with them and Gladiolus makes the furniture rattle. Ignis is bent in two over his desk, chest flat against the wood, one of Gladiolus’ hands on the small of his back and pinning him in place. His shirt’s unbuttoned, his pants down. Gladiolus looms over him, shirtless with open jeans, cock fully embedded between Ignis’ taut cheeks. The desk groans with every thrust of his chiseled hips, the sides sliding along the floor. Ignis is clutching on for dear life, glasses askew and fogged and cheeks completely red, eyes dilated to full black.

Noctis is on the floor in front of the desk, sprawled out in a makeshift nest of discarded clothes—including the uniforms all three guards should be wearing. Noctis is dressed, but his black shirt’s rolled up to his armpits, and his legs are spread wide open. Prompto’s ducked down between them, and Cor doesn’t have the right view to know, but the wet squelching sounds and Prompto’s muffled groans would suggest he’s got his prince’s cock deep inside his throat. His leggings are rolled all the way down his thighs, round ass thrust in the air, his tight balls cradled in his scrunched-up briefs and his puckered asshole leaking white cum everywhere. 

Cor can barely breathe. He’s not an easy man to startle. He’s known for his poker face. But he’s walked into a den of four incredibly handsome men in the midst of a wild heat. They may as well _all_ be omegas. The whole office reeks of sex and pheromones. Noctis looks up at Cor through a haze of lust but still threads his fingers through Prompto’s blond hair and holds his head down. Gladiolus stares over his conquest but still keeps slamming in. Cor can’t even blame them. It’s incredibly unprofessional, but Ignis is so beautiful and Prompto is so cute that of course he’s thought of them like this, more than once, though he’s always clamped down on the fantasies and never would have pursued them. 

He sucks in a breath. This is absurd. He can’t be done in by them. He’s too old for this nonsense. But that breath just ensconces him in more pheromones, and he can’t seem to growl out the scolding he wants. Instead, his prince is the first to speak—Noctis grunts, “Shut the door.”

Cor steps forward and does. It only makes sense. This is one of the biggest security threats the Citadel has ever faced—of course he has to contain it. 

Gladiolus pants, “Sorry ‘bout the meeting—” but he can’t be that sorry, because after he’s pulled his massive cock out of Ignis’ no-doubt-ridiculously-tight ass, he shoves it back inside hard enough to make Ignis gasp. The next thrust knocks Ignis’ glasses further down his nose. Cor just wants to pluck them off. And then flip Ignis over and sit on his pretty face. Cor grits his teeth and pretends he never had that thought. “Our omegas went into heat, and... well...” Gladiolus doesn’t finish. Doesn’t seem to have the wherewithal. But Cor already knows. _He couldn’t resist._ Cor’s not sure he can either. 

Ignis shudders and tries to murmur, “My apolog—” but the next thrust cuts the word off, and he shivers so violently that Cor almost worries for him. Sometimes Ignis looks so delicate, so suave and aristocratic, but Cor knows he’s just as deadly with a weapon as Gladiolus is and can take such rough treatment. So can Prompto, even if he comes off like a baby chocobo. When Prompto hears the others address Cor, he tries to sit up, but he has to fight Noctis’ hand. 

He does and wins, spluttering and choking for air when he’s free. When he looks over his shoulder, Cor can see the cum and spit leaking down his chin—he was definitely sucking Noctis off. And he looks like he wants to go back to it. But he manages to whimper out, “M’sorry.” And then he tilts forward to lean his head on Noctis’ thigh, still meeting Cor’s gaze as he lifts his rear higher. He spreads his legs as much as the tight leggings will let him, and he even reaches back to grab one cheek, trying to pull it aside— _spreading his hole open._ It dilates, belching out more bubbling liquids. It’s obvious they’ve been at this for awhile. The more Cor looks, the more he notices little flecks of white all over not just Ignis and Prompto, but the two alphas in the room, and they’ll all sweating, all blushing, skin flushed pink and littered with hickeys and scratch marks. They all have kiss-swollen lips. But it’s still going, and Prompto shakes his ass like he wants _more_.

Cor knows an invitation when he sees one. Prompto doesn’t have a chance to put it into words—Noctis is dragging him back, and Prompto obediently opens so wide that his tongue lolls out—then he’s being shoved back down, and Cor knows from the noise that he’s swallowed his prince’s cock whole. 

Ignis makes a desperate noise, and Noctis leans back, twisting around to reach up and kiss his advisor. It’s a long, sloppy thing, full of teeth and tongue, and Cor can see it all. Gladiolus is leaning further over the desk, feeling up Ignis non-stop but looking at Prompto’s writhing figure. Cor can’t even blame him for missing the meeting. Can’t blame any of them. 

He’ll blame himself if he falls victim to the same insanity. Clarus’ office is so close. He was on a mission. He can barely remember what it was. But maybe this is too much for Clarus. A breach of etiquette this massive should go straight to the king. But the king shouldn’t have to deal with such bawdy affairs. Cor has authority. Three of these men are his underlings. He should handle it. 

Noctis languidly mutters, “I don’t mind sharing.” And he even cocks a small smile, like he knows he’s just helped three officers curtail their duties, and it amuses him. 

Cor frowns. He tries to give his prince a stern look, but he finds his gaze inevitably straying to Ignis’ open mouth, wide and wet with Noctis’ saliva dribbling down the side of his lips. Prompto trembles almost violently, and Cor glances down in time to see the hard cock swinging between his legs spurt out another round. It splatters the nest below, and his legs pinch back together, thighs rubbing as he milks himself out and moans around Noctis’ cock. He doesn’t look like he’s planning to stop anytime soon. Noctis even murmurs, “Good boy,” and pats his bare ass. 

Ignis rasps, “ _Marshal._ ” 

Cor’s not young and reckless anymore. He judges danger accordingly and doesn’t leap into trouble too big for him. He knows a losing battle when he sees one.

That’s why he gives in, sighing as he undoes his belt and struts forward.


End file.
